The Very Very Long Now

When one of my favorite authors makes a public appearance, I’ll put up with a lot to be in the audience. For instance, when Hunter Thompson came to Cal  some years ago, I sat through an endless hour of Alice Donut, followed by a tape recording of jackrabbits being tortured with fire, to witness the good doctor drain a bottle of whiskey and mumble poisonous answers to stupid questions. So when I heard that Neal Stepenson would be launching his latest novel in San Francisco, under the aegis of the Long Now Foundation, I jumped at the chance to attend.

Drive an hour to get there? Not a problem. Stand in line for another hour to get in, even though I bought my ticket in advance? Sure, because I am a fan. I’ve read all this guy’s books, even the crappy ones like Zodiac and Snow Crash. Even (and especially) the 2,700+ page Baroque Cycle, which I chomped down like a Costco-sized bag of tasty, tasty popcorn. 

An hour and a quarter after the scheduled start time, and they still can’t get the sound system to work? I am filled with benefit-of-the-doubt, generously dispensing Slack. After all, I am a fan of the event organizers and their crazy clock project. If they skipped a step here or there, like the sound-check, who am I to point fingers? It’s an old, historic hall, and they’ve never done an event here before, and they are my friends.